


Had the Best Time

by nature_aly



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 07:44:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nature_aly/pseuds/nature_aly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the <a href="http://reel-1d.livejournal.com/">Reel_1D Movie AU</a> community. AU of the movie <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0052847/?ref_=sr_3">Gidget</a>:</p><p>Harry spends the summer in California, discovering surfing and love (in that order).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Had the Best Time

**Author's Note:**

> A massive thank you to moralimperative for betaing and cheerleading me through this even then though this isn't her fandom, and thanks to junkshop_disco for letting me "borrow" a great line from one of her fics.

Harry is practically vibrating with excitement as the taxi drives them to their holiday home. He can’t believe Gemma and his mum are sleeping, even though they’d been on a plane for nearly 12 hours. He’s been on a few trips abroad before, but they’ve never come anywhere as exciting as America, much less California. It’s the sort of place people write songs about, and while all he’s seen so far is motorways, he doesn’t want to miss a moment of it.

The taxi finally stops, pulling up in front of a house with actual palm trees in front of it. 

This is brilliant. 

The house itself isn’t too impressive, smaller and plainer than their home in Holmes Chapel, but Harry barely notices. The sun is shining, the sky is bright blue, and he can smell the salt in the air. 

It may be too early to call it, but Harry suspects this will be the best summer ever.

~

Anne and Robin had waited until Gemma was home from Uni for term break to sit them down for a Serious Family Talk. For a couple of nerve-wracking moments, Harry had been close to tears, convinced they were getting divorced.

They weren't.

Robin had been offered some sort of promotion at work, but before he could take it he needed to complete a training program at the home office. In Los Angeles. For the next six months. He would be leaving almost immediately; with the rest of the family joining him for the summer after Harry finished sitting his A-levels. 

Knowing he had the beach waiting for him made revising a bit harder, but he probably did well enough. He (and his application for the University of Manchester) hopes he did well enough, but there's nothing he can do about it now.

He says as much to Robin as the four of them sit together in the kitchen, drinking tea and catching up. 

His mum interrupts him, "You worry too much, my Hazza. I know you did well."

"And besides, what's the worst that would happen if you bombed?" Robin asks.

Harry barely thinks before answering, "Um...my entire future disappears and I've failed at life?" Gemma snorts at him, but wisely stays quiet while Robin responds.

"No. You would just take them again. I had to re-sit my exams and I turned out okay."

Harry's not that reassured, but he nods anyway and lets Anne convince him to go take a nap to stave off the jet lag.

~

He wakes up a few hours later feeling extremely disorientated. He manages to shower off the airport funk before making a half-arsed attempt to unpack his things. He’s about to give up and go back to sleep- when Gemma bounds into his room unannounced and unfairly perky. “You’ve got company, you might want to throw some more clothes on.”

“What? How? I don’t know anyone in this country.” Gemma doesn’t respond, choosing instead to flick his ear before leaving the room. “Heeeeeeey.” He whines after her. 

Older sisters are infuriating. Harry tries to wrack his brain, but he honestly cannot think of anyone who would be here for him. Maybe it’s just a lame prank to make him waste five minutes shimmying into his skinny jeans. Screw that, he thinks, and heads downstairs in just his pants. 

Only there is actually a boy there. He is kind of familiar, but with his immaculately quiffed dark hair and leather jacket, he could just be reminding Harry of any stereotypical greaser character from a classic film. 

When he notices Harry, his only reaction to his state of undress is to arch one eyebrow while giving the internationally recognised 'sup' head nod.

"Hey..." Harry says weakly. For a moment he's not sure if he should introduce himself or run back upstairs, but he figures he can handle a bit more awkward. "I'm Harry." 

"I know." He points to his own chest. "Zayn. Do you really not remember me?"

He honestly doesn’t recognise this boy at all, but the name is one he knows. "Wait, I do." Zayn's mum worked with Robin, so he and Harry would see each other a few times a year at company parties, always lumped together as the only boys of a similar age. Then sometime during the year Harry turned 13, Zayn stopped showing up to the functions, and Harry convinced his parents that he was old enough to be left at home, figuring Zayn had done the same. "I didn't even know you guys moved."

"Almost five years ago." 

Now that he's spoken a bit more, Harry belatedly notices Zayn is speaking with an American accent. It sounds weird on him, but Harry chooses not to comment, instead asking, "So, why are you here anyway? Not that it's not nice to see you..."

"I'm to show you around." Zayn flashes him a huge, fake smile. "Our parents decided we're going to be the best of friends."

Harry normally would turn down an outing with a forced family friend, but in this case, he figures he doesn’t have much to lose. "Just like old times."

Zayn nods decisively and pokes at Harry’s third nipple. "Exactly. Get dressed. We've got places to be."

~

‘Places to be’ is apparently Zayn's code for errands to run. They stop at the skate park so Zayn can get the axel replaced on his board before taking at 20-minute detour to the "good" art supply store.

"Sorry," Zayn says sheepishly while treating Harry to a smoothie, "they just never let me have the car." 

Harry shrugs, flipping his hair out of his eyes, "It's okay." He prides himself on being easy-going, and honestly he’s been having a good time tagging along for A Day in the Life of Zayn.

"I've got one more stop, but after we can do whatever you want."

Harry doesn't actually know what he wants to do, but finds himself suggesting the beach. Zayn wrinkles his nose a bit at the suggestion, but agrees anyway. 

Their one last stop is a tattoo parlor. Zayn seems to know everyone inside, including one of the customers, a pretty girl he introduced to Harry as 'his mate, Leigh-Anne.'

"Is Perrie here?" He asks her, glancing towards a "staff only" area.

"Nah, she's with her One True Love today. She's working tomorrow." 

"Kay. I'll see if I can catch her later."

He shrugs off his jacket and reveals the tattoos littered across his forearms. He notices Harry looking and proceeds to show off while they wait for Zayn's artist to finish up with Leigh-Anne, telling Harry the stories and inspiration behind each one. Harry’s always been fascinated with tattoos, loves the idea of permanently etching something into his skin. He points out a black outline of the comic book style ‘ZAP’ word bubble, and Zayn explains that he's getting the color filled in it today. 

"I couldn't afford to do the whole thing in one session." He explains. 

Harry nods, before adding, “I’ve always wanted one.”

“A tattoo?”

“Yeah...”

Zayn waits for him to continue, but apparently that’s all Harry has to offer on the matter. 

“Why don’t you get one?” Zayn asks. “YOLO and all.”

Harry winces at his word choice, but he does have a point. “Dunno. Maybe I should just do it.”

“Yeah? What would you get?”

“Just something basic, a star, but I would want it here--” Harry says, pointing at the inside of his bicep. 

“So, Tom,” Zayn calls out to another tattoo artist set up in the corner of the shop, “You think you could fit in a quick one for my boy, Harry?”

And just like that Harry finds himself getting a tattoo. Well, not just like that. He takes time to pick out the right size and shape of the star, and to read and sign the consent forms and basic care sheets before he is sitting in the chair listening to the buzz of the needle. His stomach muscles clench in anticipation as the needle moves closer to touch his arm, finally pushing ink under his skin. It hurts, and he winces, biting at his bottom lip, but it’s not as bad as he always thought it might be. Soon he can feel the adrenaline start to kick in, dulling the pain and making his heart race. The whole process only takes about 10 minutes and then Tom is finishing up, cleaning off the excess ink and a bit of blood and wrapping his upper arm in cellophane, but Harry is absolutely buzzing. He feels sort of ridiculous and brilliant at the same time. 

He tries to articulate it to Zayn later, after they’ve paid and gotten back to his car, but can’t find the words. Zayn thankfully stops his rambling with an excited, “I know, right?!” before putting on a mix CD full of obnoxiously cheery pop music. Harry is actually shocked that Zayn: A) owns these songs and B) is willing to play such an obvious guilty pleasure mix when not alone. It’s almost like a challenge, some sort of test that Harry apparently passes by starting to sing along. By the time they make it to the beach, they’re both shouting along with Robbie Williams and Harry cannot stop smiling. 

Harry feels a bit silly now for having suggested the beach, because according to the basic tattoo care sheet in Harry’s possession, they should be avoiding the sun and swimming for at least the next two weeks. But still, the view is spectacular.

“I don’t swim anyway,” Zayn says, “and we need to waste about an hour with them wrapped up before we go to mine to clean them. Are your parents gonna flip?” 

“Don’t think so, but I might just avoid them seeing it for a while. If I can.”

“Solid plan.”

They walk along the shoreline for a while, their conversation flowing from one unimportant topic to another. Harry relishes the feeling of wet sand between his toes while Zayn had refused to take his shoes off. Harry comments that it’s a good illustration of a fundamental difference between the two of them. Zayn rolls his eyes in response. 

Just as Harry’s about to suggest that they turn around and head back for the car Zayn stops and points out a group of surfers. They stand and watch as two of them, a blond boy and a girl with pink hair, catch the same wave, the girl eventually turning her board to knock into his. The boy goes flying and the girl rides for a few more moments before bailing out. Harry’s a bit concerned when he can’t see where the blond boy ended up, but then he spots him, smiling as he shouts profanity at the girl who lifts her hands in triumph. 

Zayn chuckles at their antics and waves to get their attention. They wave back and shout something that Harry can’t decipher. “I know them,” he tells Harry, “but I’ll have to introduce you some other time. I want food and to be indoors.” 

“Okay,” says Harry agreeably. 

Another surfer, one with short hair and blue board-shorts, catches his eye, so he stands there watching for a little bit longer before he realises Zayn’s left him behind. He has to jog to catch up to him, which is harder to do on sand than he expected. He stumbles slightly just as he reaches Zayn, but luckily stays on his feet. Still, Zayn grasps his elbow to steady him. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, fine.”

“Let’s get you out of here before you hurt yourself.”

~

Harry manages to hide the tattoo for exactly one day before he forgets to wear a shirt and his mum sees it. She doesn’t actually mind much, he is 18 and can technically make these decisions, but he is officially grounded for a week for lying by omission.

He accepts it so graciously that she ends up letting him have visitors. By the third day of his sentence, he and Zayn have already finished marathoning the first two seasons of (new) Doctor Who, to help Zayn get back in touch with his British childhood. By the end of the week, Zayn is unconsciously slipping into his Bradford accent and hearing it makes Harry feel like he’s won something.

~

Soon enough he’s free again, and Zayn jokes about taking him back to get another tattoo. And actually, he really wants to say yes and get another, but he knows not to push it just yet.

After another week of lazing about watching the telly when Zayn isn't at his part-time job at the public library, Harry decides they need to get out and do something. They find out about a house party thrown by one of Zayn’s university friends. Its full of pretentious hipster art majors and Harry loves every one of them. He finally gets to meet Perrie, the pink-haired surfer, and she is even more inherently cool than Zayn. There was a slightly tense moment during the introductions, when it seemed like Zayn wasn’t sure how to introduce her before he settled on “friend”. Harry suspects that there is a story there, but doesn’t ask any questions. It’s not really his business anyway.

At some point he loses track of Zayn and gets engrossed in a conversation with Perrie, Leigh-Anne, and two of their friends. When he thinks to check his phone for the time, he’s surprised to see that it’s past midnight. He doesn’t exactly have a curfew, he is on holiday, but he knows his mum will appreciate it if he’s home before one. 

He makes his excuses to the girls and heads off to find his friend. After asking around a bit, he’s directed downstairs to the basement-rec room. He doesn’t really pay attention to his surroundings until he gets to the bottom of the stairs, because ever since he hit his latest growth spurt, he’s learned to focus on his feet and on walking without tripping whenever stairs are involved. When he does look up, he spots Zayn sitting back on a worn-out couch with a bloke perched on his lap, mouthing and biting at his neck like a vampire.

He immediately feels his cheeks heating up and is glad for the low music playing in the room that must have masked his footsteps. He turns around and makes his way back upstairs as fast as he can. Once he gets there, he’s not entirely sure what he should do. Zayn is still his ride home, but he is obviously...busy right now. 

He ends up spending fifteen minutes leaning against the wall in the hallway near the stairs, scrolling through his phone’s contacts trying to look busy. The door eventually opens, and Harry can’t help but look up at the motion. It’s Zayn’s bloke. They lock eyes for a moment, the bloke giving him a friendly smile and nod before he continues into the main room. Zayn emerges less than a minute later looking more relaxed than Harry has ever seen him. 

“Ugh, Zayn,” Harry groans, completely unable to pretend he doesn’t know what just happened- “I was embarrassed, but now I’m overwhelmingly disgusted that I know what you look like post-coital.” 

Zayn just shoves him a bit, “That was you perving on us? Lou said he thought he heard someone.”

Harry looks down at his feet. “No! I mean, I saw nothing, less than nothing. Can we go?” 

“Yeah, okay.”

The ride home is spent in a surprisingly non-awkward silence. It’s a really beautiful night, and they listen to music with the windows rolled down. When they pull up to Harry’s, he finally asks, “Is he your boyfriend?”

“Not really. Louis is just someone I know from high school.” Harry stays quiet, and Zayn continues, “He’s been chasing me a while. I let him catch me tonight, but he’ll have to try harder if he wants to keep me.”

Harry tries to look like he understands, but no one’s ever “caught” him before and he can’t help but suddenly feel like Zayn is much more than just one year older than him. “Yeah, well, you better keep him guessing, you deserve nothing but the best, Malik.”

“You too, Styles.”

~

Harry doesn’t get much sleep that night, too caught up in thinking about Zayn and that boy, Louis. It doesn't bother him, not really. He knows that most people, especially people his age, can be casual about these things, having sex or hooking up. He's just not like that. He does want to have sex; he's a teenage boy, he gets urges. But he's had offers from most of the girls and a few of the boys in his sixth form and it never felt right to take them up on it.

In a moment of weakness, he had confided in his mum, asking her if she thought there was something wrong with him. Not that he told her about the few outright propositions, just that he wasn't interested in dating anyone.

"There's no such thing as normal, Hazza; everyone is different-" she had said. "You could find someone you want to date tomorrow, next year at university, or maybe never, that would be okay too. As long as you're honest with yourself about what you want and don't let anyone pressure you into doing something that you're not ready for."

~

Despite the late night, the next morning finds Harry waking up before dawn. It’s been a few weeks, but he figures jet lag is still affecting him. He reaches over to turn on the clock radio on his nightstand, hoping to find some music to lull himself back to sleep. Unfortunately, all he can hear is static, and he ends up waking himself up completely trying to find a suitable station. He gives up and flops back onto his back, looking up at the white ceiling.

He finally accepts that he will not be getting any more sleep this morning, so he might as well get up and do something. He’s been here over two weeks and still hasn’t set foot in the ocean. Now that his tattoo has finally healed, he might as well go watch the sunrise on the beach and get a swim in. 

He changes into swim trunks and grabs a bag with a towel, t-shirt, and sunscreen for later before leaving a note for his mum. He wishes he could call Zayn for a ride, but knows him well enough by now to know their friendship would likely end if he woke Zayn at this hour. It’s not too far of a walk.

By the time he makes it to the beach, the sky is starting to lighten and the streetlights are turning off. He sits for a long time watching the sky change colors before laying back and watching the clouds. When the sun is pretty high in the sky, he sits up and looks around, noticing that he is no longer alone. There are people walking dogs up by the street and a few families setting up chairs and umbrellas. He pushes his small bag under his towel, decides that will be enough to keep his stuff safe from thieves, and heads toward the water.

He makes his way past the shore break and swims out against the current for a ways before turning around and letting the waves push him back in. By fifth or sixth time, on the way back, he drifts off course into a batch of seaweed. Not paying attention to his surrounding, he doesn't notice the wave breaking over his head, pushing him down under the water.

He opens his eyes, but can't see.

He's been spun around, and doesn't know which way is up.

He accidentally inhales water and can't help but start flailing, panicking,

He manages to get his head above water, but there’s something stuck to his ankle, keeping him in place as the waves continually force him underwater.

Suddenly there's a hand on his ankle, removing the seaweed. Then he’s being pulled up out of the water and onto a surfboard. He sputters, coughing up seawater, and clinging to the board, as his saviour rubs his back soothingly.

"You're okay, don't panic, you're okay. Just keep breathing, I'll get us to shore."

Harry obeys, and for a moment, he can't focus on anything else besides air. Wonderful, glorious air. After his breath has evened out, he notices the hand that has been on his shoulder, steadying him.

“Here, budge up a bit.” The boy guides Harry into a sitting position towards the front of the board and kneels behind him, paddling forward with his arms. He starts speaking again, a comfortingly familiar English accent whispering directly into Harry’s ear, though Harry is having trouble focusing on what he’s saying. Eventually the voice becomes a little more urgent, saying “There’s a bigger wave coming--no, don’t look. Just try and keep your weight centered, I’m going to stand up to surf us in quicker.”

And he does, and they’re surfing. Well, Harry is just clinging to the front of the board, but he can feel how the boy is moving his feet and shifting his weight to steer them as they gain speed. It’s exhilarating, like the tattoo all over again, but without the pain. 

By the time they get up to the beach, Harry realises he is practically being carried by a complete stranger and manages to pull away slightly to try and carry some of his own weight. Almost immediately there's another person at his side and it takes Harry a moment to register that this person is speaking.

"Holy shite, Moondoggie, I can't believe you just went all Baywatch and saved someone. You alright, mate?"

That was directed at Harry, so he nods, finally pushing his hair out of his eyes and looking around. The boy who was speaking had an Irish accent and he looks vaguely familiar. As he starts describing his view of the daring rescue, Harry takes the time to turn and gets a good look of his saviour. ‘Moondoggie’ is about Harry’s height, but broader, with short, brown hair that's already starting to curl up off his forehead. His brown eyes look huge as they study Harry intently and Harry thinks he looks both relieved and concerned.

"Um," Harry starts to speak, but has to stop and cough again. "Erhm, thanks. You know, for saving me." His voice rises a bit at the end, like he's asking a question, and he mentally curses himself for a moment before the other boy beams at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“My pleasure. You gonna be alright?”

“I feel brilliant, actually.” _Great, Harry, way to sound like a nutter._

“Brilliant?”

“Yeah, that was really fun. Not, um, not the almost drowning bit, that was less fun, but after? That was good.” By now, he thinks, he should really be immune to feeling this awkward, with as much practice he gets. “I’m Harry.” 

“They call me Moondoggie.” And at Harry’s questioning look, he continues, “It’s a surfing thing, nicknames- better left unexplained.” He points toward his blond friend who is watching them interact as if they were a sitcom. “That’s Stinky.” Stinky waves.

"That’s unfortunate." Harry says without thinking, but before he can try and take it back, Stinky is agreeing with him. 

“That’s for damn sure.” Stinky now has a different accent, an American Southern one, and Harry wonders if either accent is real, or maybe he's just strange. He doesn’t get a chance to ask before Stinky apparently loses interest in them and heads back into the water.

Moondoggie laughs, quick and loud, before turning back to Harry. “Well, I’m going to follow him, if you’re really alright.”

“I am. I think I’ll be heading home.” He pauses, considering. He wants to prolong the conversation even though he knows Moondoggie wants to leave it. He resists the urge. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Sure. We’re on this stretch of beach most days, come find me before you go swimming again and I’ll make sure we’ve got someone on lifeguard duty.” Harry feels himself flushing again, but Moondoggie gentles the teasing with a fond smile. 

Harry nods and heads off to find his things. Once located, he lingers, watching the two surfers each catch a wave before he turns to head home.

~

It is an exercise in patience for Harry to wait until noon before texting Zayn, who thinks its only acceptable to be awake during AM hours if you've not gone to bed yet. At 12:01 PM, he composes a quick text - _call me!!!!!!_ , and after second guessing his number of exclamation points, he sends it and waits.

He is sitting in the family room, just staring at the phone willing it to ring, when his mum walks through and gives him a concerned look. “You okay, sweetie?” She asks.

Before he can say anything to reassure her, Zayn finally rings. He jumps up and gives her a big ‘I’m great’ smile and goes outside to answer the call.

“Zayn! Finally!” Harry is so excited, his normally slow speech pattern actually sounds like a regular person’s. “You’ll never guess what happened to me this morning!”

“Nooooo...” Zayn groans, “whatever this is about, just no. I’m not awake enough for whatever it is you’re being crazy about.”

“But I’ve been waiting to talk and you called me--”

“I dunno why, I got it in my head that it was an emergency.”

“It’s a best friend emergency?” 

“Okay,” Zayn yawns out the word so it sounds like it has at least four syllables. “Okay,” he says again correctly. “I’ll go shower. Can you come over here and bring me coffee? I’ll try and be here for you.” 

There’s a Starbucks that’s about a five-minute walk away from the house Harry is staying in. It’s not exactly on the way to Zayn’s, but not too far out of the way either. It’s easy for Harry to agree to these terms. 

“I’ll be right over. You’re my favourite Zayn ever.”

“Coffee.” Zayn reminds him, and then hangs up without saying goodbye.

Harry stops on his way out to reassure his mum that he really is fine and get some cash from her for his coffee stop.

He makes it to Zayn’s less than twenty minutes later, carrying a bag of pastries and two of the huge frozen coffees with whipped cream and extra caramel and chocolate sauce. He nearly drops it all in shock when Zayn answers the door. His hair is still wet from the shower, sticking onto his forehead, and he’s is wearing glasses and sweats. Harry has never seen him so dressed down, including the times Zayn actually slept at Harry’s house. He follows Zayn back to his bedroom before speaking.

“Are you okay?” Harry is genuinely concerned, and tries to feel Zayn’s forehead for a fever after he sets everything down on the nightstand.

“I’m good, Harry, don’t worry. Besides, we’re supposed to be talking about your thing. What was so important that we had to get together at the crack of dawn?”

Harry wisely doesn’t point out that its close to 2 PM by now, instead starting to tell Zayn all about his morning adventure. Zayn, for his part, is playing the role of enthusiastic listener, looking vaguely concerned for Harry’s safety and nodding at all the right parts until Harry notices him sneaking glances at his phone.

“Hey, you’re supposed to be paying attention!” He says, grabbing Zayn’s phone from him. It’s not even open to a text, like Harry assumed, but the stopwatch app. He holds it up and throws Zayn a questioning look while Zayn tries not to laugh at him. He only lasts a few more seconds before snorting. 

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just--” He stops and actually giggles, “You’ve been describing the color of ‘Moondoggie’s’ eyes for almost five minutes.”

“I was trying to get all the details right.” Harry pouts.

“I’ve met him. They’re brown.”

“But they’re like this warm brown, its different--wait, you know him?”

“Yeah, he lives with Louis.”

“Your Louis?”

“He’s not my Louis.” Zayn says, a hint of annoyance slipping into his tone. “And yes.” 

Harry resists the urge to shout, _‘Tell me everything you know about him!’_ because he knows this moment might come back to haunt him one day. Instead he manages to casually say, “Oh, that’s cool. That they’re flatmates and all.” At Zayn’s noncommittal shrug, he continues, “But this isn’t about Moondoggie, he’s not the point of this story.”

“Sure he’s not,” Zayn mutters before asking, “So what is the point?”

“The surfing! I need to do it again, it was ace.”

“Surfing? Harry, you nearly drowned today just trying to _swim_.”

“I can learn.”

“You fall over just trying to walk.”

“I’m usually not thinking about walking when I trip.” Harry argues, “I’ll be thinking about surfing while I’m on a board in the water. Also, do you know where I can get a surfboard?” 

“I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this?”

“Nope.”

Zayn looks at him for a long moment while Harry arranges his best stubborn face. "My dad has an old board you can probably use. Please don't get yourself hurt, your mum would never forgive me."

Harry grins and pulls Zayn in for a long hug, smacking a kiss to his cheek and tightening his arms around him when Zayn tries to squirm away. "I make no promises." 

Zayn decides that it is his responsibility to make sure Harry knows how not to die while surfing, despite not even being able to swim. “At least I can skateboard,” he argues, “The concepts are similar.” He spends the rest of the day making sure Harry will be suitably prepared by reading him eHow articles and Wikipedia entries while they listen to Yaser’s Beach Boys: Greatest Hits CD. 

Once Harry has finished his assigned reading, he feels pretty confident. “I now feel like, with my newfound knowledge and understanding of the sport, I will be able to surf tomorrow.” 

“And you’re sure I can’t get you to wear Safaa’s water wings?”

“No water wings! I can actually swim!”

“Okay.” Zayn looks defeated. “I was hoping to avoid this, but...” He says as he picks up his phone and sends off a text. A few moments later it buzzes with a reply. “Louis says they’ll be at the beach around 11 tomorrow.” It buzzes again and Zayn continues, “Bring food and he’ll give you a free lesson.”

“A lesson?”

“His weekend job. He works out by the marina, swimming lessons for the under 10s, surfing lessons for the pre-teens.” The phone buzzes again and Zayn rolls his eyes are the message. “‘Stinky’,” he says, fingers forming air quotes around the word, “suggests you bring fried chicken. God, I hate those stupid nicknames Louis insists on using.”

“Does Louis have one too?”

“Yeah, he’ll probably make you call him ‘Waikiki’.”

“It is kind of a cool nickname.” Harry says, trying to be diplomatic toward his future instructor.

“No, it isn’t. It doesn’t make any sense, none of them do.” Zayn sounds like this is an argument he is used to making. “Except Perrie’s. ‘Hot Shot’. It works for her.” This also sounds like Zayn’s standard concession. 

“Will you come with me tomorrow?” Harry knows Zayn has to work in the afternoon, but he’s starting to feel nervous about hanging around an established group of friends without Zayn to be his link.

Zayn groans, “It’s so early!”

Harry pleads with him for a while, making his best attempt at puppy-dog eyes.

“I have two little sisters who are much cuter than you. Those will not work.” Harry juts his lower lip out a bit further. “Okay, fine! You win. I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

~

Their trip through the drive-thru chicken place is awkward. Harry’s borrowed surfboard is partially hanging out the back window of Zayn’s tiny rust bucket of a car, but they eventually make it to the beach a little after noon.

He’ll never admit that he spots Moondoggie first out of the whole group. He waves at Harry and Harry resists the urge to turn around and make sure there isn’t someone behind him before waving back. They are greeted with cheers when they reach the surfers who get up from their mis-matched, rickety-looking chairs to grab the food then return to their spots in the shade of an old lifeguard station. Zayn quickly abandons him to go sit with Perrie, and Harry hesitates for a moment before heading over to where Moondoggie is situated. Only, Louis intercepts him before he can make it, standing up on his tiptoes to throw an arm around Harry’s shoulders.

Louis doesn't bother with pleasantries, instead directly launching into a speech that sounds well-rehearsed. “Now, Beautiful might have tried to tell you differently,” Louis starts, indicating Zayn when he says ‘Beautiful’, “But since I am taking on the role of your mentor in all things surf, you need to listen to everything I say and accept it as truth. My name is Waikiki. You may call me that; I will also accept ‘God’, but nothing else.” Harry nods, and Louis seems impressed with his serious face. He continues, waving his arm at the group lounging around, “And these are all good people, you can trust any of them not to let you die, as Moondoggie proved yesterday. They’re my crew.”

One of the other surfers seems to take issue with this, “Your crew, Kiki?” 

Louis makes an annoyed face at the man and clarifies, “Okay, this is Big Kahuna’s crew, of which I am a member. Better?” He directs this toward the questioning man.

“Much, ta love.” The man stands up to shake Harry’s hand. “Harry, is it? I’m Kahuna.” Kahuna is yet another ex-Pat; Harry thinks he’s probably from Manchester too. He looks older than the rest of the group, a bit taller than Harry, with hair that’s somehow kept its quiffed style despite the water and wind. Harry is immediately impressed. 

“Hi Kahuna” Kahuna. Waikiki. Stinky. Moondoggie. Harry tries to commit the names to memory, feeling a little overwhelmed already. The feeling is not assuaged when Louis takes the introductions back over, pulling him away from Kahuna possessively. 

“Have you already met Hot Shot?” He asks, guiding Harry towards Perrie and Zayn. “And of course you know Beautiful there--”

“I still refuse to answer to that.” Zayn grumbles.

“But you just did!” Louis sounds delighted. He leans in to stage whisper in Harry’s ear, “I’m wearing him down, just wait and see.” He returns to his normal overly loud voice, pointing out a few more people with increasingly ridiculous names. He’s not sure which ones are which, except that the ginger bloke was called Lover Boy and someone was called Lord Byron. He’ll see if Zayn can make him a chart or list later. “And this is Stinky and Moondoggie.” Louis is finishing as Harry tunes back in.

“Me and Harry go way back,” Stinky says, holding his fist out for Harry to bump. “In fact, we’re such good friends that I should let you know that unlike these idiots, you don’t need to use this daft nickname for me--” 

He’s cut off by Moondoggie reaching over to slap a hand over his mouth. Stinky starts struggling to pull his hand down to speak, but Harry can’t hear him anyway because Louis is sticking his fingers into Harry’s ears and tonelessly singing “Lalalalalalala”. They both manage to pull away at the same time. Following an instinct, Harry pinches Louis’s side. The other boy laughs and pulls away, obviously ticklish.

“Niall!” The other boy gasps out, elbowing Moondoggie in the gut. “Ha! I win! I’m Niall.”

“Noooooooo!” Louis and Moondoggie cry out dramatically, falling down into the sand in defeat. 

Harry can’t help but laugh at their antics, just barely managing to say, “Nice to meet you, Niall.” He’s still smiling stupidly at the boys on the ground when Perrie comes over. 

“Not that I don’t find your flirting adorable, Waikiki, but aren’t you supposed to be actually teaching Harry something today?” Perrie makes a good point. While Louis is rolling around trying to get up, she turns to Harry. “Zayn took off. He’ll come back and get you later or I’ll bring you home depending on how long we stay out.”

“Sounds good.” He says, “I could always walk, too.”

She shrugs, “It’s no trouble." She lowers her voice and leans in, "I’ll look out for you, if you want, but you should listen to Waikiki, okay? He’s kind of an idiot, but he does actually know what he’s doing.”

Most of the crew follows her out into the ocean while Louis starts Harry’s lesson. Moondoggie and Kahuna hang back, sitting on their boards in the sand to watch the lesson and occasionally calling out advice. It seems to take forever, but finally Louis decides he can actually go out into the water. The four of them paddle out together before spreading out a bit to avoid crowding Harry. Kahuna catches a wave, then Moondoggie, before Harry has worked up the nerve to try. Louis just sits on his board, close enough to talk him through it, exhibiting a patience that Harry would not have expected from him from their admittedly limited interactions so far. Eventually though, Harry does spot a wave that doesn’t look too scary and prepares to try. He lays down to start paddling forward and feels when the wave starts pulling him back. He feels it, the moment when he should stand up, but can’t make his body move correctly quickly enough, and ends up wiping out. 

He surfaces easily enough and gets a hand on his board as Louis comes over to him. “That was actually pretty close.” He says encouragingly. “I didn’t actually expect you to be able to do it on your first try.” 

“Now you tell me.” Louis laughs at him as Harry struggles to keep his hair out of his face. 

“C’mon, get back up and try again.”

After more wipeouts than he would care to count, Harry does actually manage to keep his feet under him and surf for a few seconds before falling. It’s an amazing feeling. After giving him a congratulatory thumbs up, Louis signals to him to head for shore, where most of the group is gathered. 

 

They give a little cheer and Harry feels his face redden. “You were all watching that?” Because it was nothing, barely anything, especially compared to what he’s seen all these people do today. 

“We all remember our first day,” Moondoggie says kindly. “You’re doing great.”

Kahuna less kindly knocks Moondoggie out of the way so he can stand next to Harry. “You managed to stand, so you surfed. You are officially a surfer.” He says with gravitas. “And since you are officially a surfer, I can ask if you want to join my crew.”

Harry doesn’t hesitate. “Yes, of course!”

“Then ready him for initiation!” 

“Wait, what? What’s initiation?” Harry asks.

“Calm your tits, Harry.” Niall says. “You’ll get used to the pain quickly, I promise.”

Before Harry can start panicking more, Kahuna stands up on an old tree stump and holds his hands up. “First, the naming. Would anyone like to make a suggestion?” Louis, Niall and Moondoggie huddle up and start whispering frantically. When they come to an agreement, Moondoggie approaches Kahuna to whisper the suggestion in his ear. He looks consideringly at Harry and nods once. “I like it. From now until the end of time, Harry will henceforth be known as Shark Bait.”

“Shark Bait hoo ha ha!” Louis and Niall say in unison. 

"They've been wanting to do that for ages." Moondoggie tells him, "We just had to find the right person for the name."

At least it's better than Stinky, Harry thinks. “And that's me? I'm the right person to be Shark Bait?”

“Shark Bait hoo ha ha!” 

“Somebody shut them up.” Kahuna pleads. “I’m already regretting it.” 

“Now for part two,” Moondoggie says, coming up behind Harry and grasping his shoulders. Harry leans back into the touch for a moment and Lover Boy takes that opportunity to grab his legs. The two of them carry him down the beach and toss him into the ocean. He comes out sputtering and shaking his hair everywhere like a dog. Moondoggie offers him a hand, graciously pulling him out of the water he just threw Harry into. “Welcome to the crew.”

~

Harry spends the next three days out on the beach with various members of the crew. He’s getting slightly better, can stand up longer, but he’s still nowhere near good. But it doesn’t matter. Even if he spends 3/4ths of his time wiping out, that magical quarter where he can stand makes it all worth it.

On the fourth day, Zayn shows up at his house before he has gotten together any of his beach gear. 

"No." He says instead of a greeting.

"No?" Harry is confused.

"No. No beach today. No crew. I haven't seen you in forever."

"You came out with us last night." Harry had been informed by Niall that it was a tradition among the crew to go to Karaoke Night on Thursdays at a kitschy 50’s themed diner/bar and that his presence was mandatory. Moondoggie had pulled him aside later to let him know that “mandatory” just meant they wanted him to come, not that he was really obligated if he had to do anything else. Harry had gotten Zayn to come with him. He had almost convinced Zayn to sing a duet with him when Moondoggie stepped up onto the short platform stage. He started singing a Frank Sinatra song, a standard, and his voice was amazing. Neither of them ended up singing that night, both feeling a bit too intimidated by Moondoggie’s performance. Harry has already formulated a plan for next week: to make sure to sign up to sing after Kahuna, who had very enthusiastically butchered Beyonce’s ‘Crazy in Love’.

“That was different.” Zayn is pouting at him. Harry idly notices how attractive it makes him look. It’s just unfair. “It’s my day off, we’re hanging out and spending time indoors.”

“Why do we have to stay in, it’s gorgeous out.” Harry whines.

“Because you’re almost tanner than me, and I can’t deal with that.” He pouts again, so Harry does the only logical thing he can think of which is hitting him in the face with a pillow. It sparks an epic pillow battle that devolves into a tickle fight ending in Zayn sitting on Harry chest, pinning him down until he concedes defeat. 

“I don’t get it. You’re half my size. I should be able to beat you.” Harry says once Zayn lets him up.

“Yeah, but you forget, I’m Bruce Lee.” He’s smiling his real smile, the one with his tongue pressed up against his teeth, so Harry quits arguing.

“I want to make cookies.” Harry changes the subject.

“Because we’re trying to complete the set of girly slumber party clichés?” Zayn asks, “We’ve already done pillow fighting and later we can gossip about boys.”

“I just like to bake. Keep your gender stereotypes to yourself.” 

They do end up gossiping about boys later, while eating freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, after Harry’s phone buzzes with a text from Moondoggie, letting Harry know that everyone is missing him at the beach. 

“He’s just so nice.” Harry groans, flopping over dramatically. “And good at absolutely everything.” 

Zayn wiggles his eyebrows at Harry suggestively, “Everything?”

“I wouldn’t know. But he probably is.” 

“Would you want to know? Why don’t you ask him out or something?”

Just considering the idea makes Harry nervous. “I don’t know. I haven’t even spent time with him without at least twenty other people around.”

“Let’s fix that. Give me your phone.” Harry hands it over without questioning, he trusts Zayn not to make him look stupid, but not so much that he doesn’t lean over to read what he’s sending. Zayn, as Harry, invites Moondoggie over for the Harry Potter movie marathon they’d planned for that night, telling him to bring his flatmates along if he wants. It reads as a very casual, friendly request, and Harry hugs Zayn tightly when Moondoggie immediately responds with a yes.

“Thank you thank you thankyou.” Harry says into Zayn’s shoulder, before asking, “But I thought we were having “no crew” night?” 

Zayn shrugs, “Moondoggie and Niall are okay, and I guess I can put up with Louis for the sake of your love life.” 

Niall, Louis, and Moondoggie show up at Harry’s just after sundown, seemingly freshly showered, but all still smelling like beach and saltwater. 

“Shark Bait!” Louis calls out in greeting. “Nice digs. Care to show us around?”

Harry starts to respond, but Niall cuts him off. “What are we eating, my vote is pizza. Want me to call?” 

Louis reaches over to punch Niall in the shoulder. “Can you give the dude more than a second before you start jumping all over him about food, Stinky?” 

“I’m starving!” Niall shouts.

“You’re always starving!” Louis shouts back.

While they’re busy arguing, Moondoggie tugs Harry through the nearest doorway, into the kitchen. “Hi, Shark Bait. Sorry ‘bout that, I guess I should know by now that I can’t really take them anywhere.”

“It’s okay. I mean, I know how they are.” They stand there for a moment, just looking at each other before Harry continues. “But maybe Ni, uh, Stinky has a point. I could order some pizzas before we start watching movies.” 

“Let me,” Moondoggie say, getting out his phone. “I’ve got Kiki’s favorite place memorized. You eat meat?”

“Yeah, but Zayn-” Harry starts.

“I know.” Moondoggie waves him off. “No pork products. You have any preferences?” Harry shakes his head and hops up onto the kitchen counter, kicking his heels against the lower cabinet door while Moondoggie orders two large meat lover’s, a supreme, a buffalo chicken, and a cheese pizza. Harry tries to raise a questioning eyebrow, like he’s seen Louis do, but suspects that he doesn’t have the move down yet. Moondoggie seems to understand anyway since he answers, “Stinky will probably eat at least half that on his own.” 

“Oh...” Harry almost rolls his eyes at himself. Way to hold up your end of the conversation, Styles.

Luckily Zayn provides a distraction by coming in and asking, “Can either of you tell me why Louis’s outside trying to make Niall eat dirt?”

“Shit.” Moondoggie sighs. “That escalated more quickly than I expected. I’ll go break it up.” 

Sitting down to eat and start the first movie is kind of anti-climatic after the way the evening had started. Moondoggie made Louis and Niall call a truce and shake hands before he’d let them have any pizza, but by the time Harry, Ron, and Hermione first encounter Fluffy, all animosity has been forgotten if the way the two of them cling to each other is any indication. They both also seem to know all of Ron’s lines, usually saying them together. 

When Niall gets up to make popcorn between movies two and three, even though the rest of them are stuffed full of pizza, Harry catches Moondoggie’s eye and they share a smile. “Told you.” 

Zayn decides to take advantage of the break and ducks out into the back garden for a smoke. When Harry gets back from the toilet, he finds Louis in his spot on the love seat. He hesitates in the doorway until Moondoggie calls him over to sit with him and Niall. "Let's give Lou a chance, yeah?" He says, whispering into Harry's cheek. "He's been waiting to try that yawn and cuddle move all night." 

Zayn shoots Harry a betrayed look when he comes back to the shifted seating arrangements. Harry just shrugs and shifts to lean into Moondoggie's side while starting the next movie. He splits his attention between the movie, the couple on the love seat, wanting to see if Louis's cheesy move is going to work, and the fact that he is pressed against Moondoggie from shoulders to knees. But the third movie is his favorite and after a while he gets completely sucked in. When he remembers to look over, he's missed the apparently successful move. Zayn is lying practically in Louis's lap. "You know," Louis says, while casually running fingers through Zayn's hair, "Hermione Granger is the only girl I ever had a crush on."

“Same." Moondoggie agrees. Harry bites his lip to make sure he doesn’t vocalize the questions suddenly running through his head. Mostly it’s just, ‘so you like guys?’ Because that means he likes guys, right? Harry realises in that moment that he won’t be able to talk himself out of this crush, especially not now that he has a sliver of hope to cling to. 

They make it through the fourth movie without any other life-altering revelations, but when the movie has ended, Harry sees that both Niall and Zayn have fallen asleep. “Should we call it a night?” He asks.

“Guess so.” Moondoggie answers. Louis maneuvers himself out from under Zayn, replacing his thigh with a pillow and covering him with a blanket while Moondoggie wakes Niall. “We’ll have to finish this some other time.”

“Sure.” Harry says agreeably, watching as Niall rolls over, hiding his face in the couch and refusing to wake up. He’s about to offer to keep him there for the night when Moondoggie just scoops him up, carrying him bridal style out to the car. Harry can’t help but feel a bit of jealousy, but he tamps it down to follow them outside to say goodbye. 

“Hey,” Moondoggie calls out, right as Harry is turning to go back inside. “You surfing tomorrow?”

“I was planning on it.”

“See you tomorrow then. Text me if you need a ride.” Louis calls out for Moondoggie to get into the damn car already, but he just stands there, waiting for Harry's response.

Harry can’t help but smile. “I will. See you.”

~

The next morning arrives and he can’t decide whether to text or not. The offer seemed sincere, but everything about Moondoggie seems sincere. Harry’s working on a theory about him being a robot, because there is no other way to explain him. Zayn’s still asleep, so he’s no help. He’s just psyching himself up to send at least a hello text, when his mum offers him an easy way out and a ride to the beach. He graciously accepts and it feels a lot easier to text Moondoggie from the car.

Harry: _Omw to beach, dont worry about me, got a ride. See you?_

Moondoggie: _YAAAY! yess see you their in a few just got to brign kiki to work first_

He chuckles at Moondoggie’s spelling, because its either that or texting back with corrections and Harry’s learned from experience that not many people appreciate that. The car is stopped at a red light and Harry can feel his mum’s eyes on him. “What?” He asks defensively. 

“Nothing.” She smiles. “I’m just happy you’re having a good summer. You are, right?”

“Yeah...surfing is really fun, even though I’m not that great at it.”

“Not just the surfing though. Zayn, those boys that were over last night, I’m glad you’re making friends.”

Harry is glad there’s no one else in the car to witness this, mums are so embarrassing. “It’s not like I don’t have friends at home.”

“School mates are different.” 

“Yeah...” It’s true, he supposes, he doesn’t have anyone at home that he relies on like he already does with Zayn, and they’ve known each other for less than a month. His mood takes quick nosedive. What is he going to do when summer ends and he has to go back to England? And he’ll be starting university, so really, he’ll have no one. They arrive at the beach before Harry can start to voice his concerns, and his mum wishes him a nice day, oblivious to his mood. He puts on a fake smile and returns the sentiment before starting to walk over to the abandoned lifeguard station. 

He looks around for any of the crew, but no one is around yet. He remembers that Moondoggie is bringing Louis to the marina first, which is practically across town, so it’ll be ages still until he and Niall show up. He knows there’s no reason for it, but he feels like crying. He leans on the door of the station and then slides down into a sitting position, letting his head fall back and thunk against the wood. After a moment the door opens inward, and Harry falls over onto his back. Kahuna is standing over him. 

“Shark Bait? What are you doing?”

“Um. Hey, Kahuna.” He flails a bit, trying to sit up. Kahuna gives him a hand. “Hey.” He says again. “Why are you in the lifeguard station?”

“I live here.” His tone is flat, like Harry should have known this.

“In the lifeguard station?” Harry repeats, incredulously. 

Kahuna rolls his eyes and invites Harry in. “Yes. Somehow I’ve got running water, electricity, and no bills. Beachfront property. Why would I possibly want to live anywhere else?” He busies himself with the kettle while Harry looks around. “Want a cuppa?” 

“Yes, please.” Harry looks around. There are two rooms, the main room and a lavatory. Kahuna has a microwave and a hotplate in one corner, and a cot pushed against the opposite wall. It’s as if someone told a Hollywood designer to build them a beach shack, its remarkably clean with shells and tiki masks on the walls and there’s even a hammock chair. Harry contemplates the chair, but thinks better of it, choosing instead to sit on the edge of the cot. “This place is pretty cool, Kahuna.”

“And it helps me maintain my rep as a beach bum.” 

“You want to be known as a bum?”

“Of course!” Kahuna responds enthusiastically, handing Harry his tea before settling down to sip at his own cup in the hammock chair. “It’s a way of life. It drives my mum nuts, but I’m not tied down to anything or anyone. I live my life the way I want to. In a few months, when it starts to get cold here, I’ll pack up and head to Australia. Endless summer, spending my life chasing the waves.” 

“Wow.” Harry says, taking all the information in. “I guess I would just get lonely, living like that.” 

Kahuna shrugs, “S’not that bad. I make friends everywhere I go. And I might not be alone anyway.”

“No?”

“Moondoggie’s making noise about coming with me. I’m not sure about him though; don’t know if he’s got what it takes to live this life. Works too hard.”

“I didn’t even know he had a job.” There’s a lot Harry doesn’t know about Moondoggie though, starting with his real name. 

“They all do.” Kahuna says, waving his hands to somehow indicate the whole crew. “I’m the only dedicated surf bum out of the whole lot.” 

“I don’t have a job.” Harry offers. 

Kahuna shoots him an unimpressed look. “True. And where will you be in three months?” 

Harry counts off in his head, July, August, September. Oh. “Uni.” 

“Exactly.” Harry stares at his feet. He shouldn’t feel bad for not being a bum, right? Kahuna must notice something, because he hastily adds, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I certainly had a good time getting my degree. I just don’t want to use it anymore.” 

Harry wants to find out more, ask Kahuna what he studied, but his phone buzzes in his pocket. Moondoggie or Niall probably, letting him know they’re here. He makes his excuses to Kahuna, who says he’ll be out there later, and goes outside to meet them. 

“Shark Bait!” They call, nearly in unison, and Harry find himself in the middle of a hug from both of them. It’s like a light switch, flipping off all the earlier uncertainty and melancholy. Hugs are great, and he has ages before he needs to worry about the fall.

“What were you doing in Kahuna’s place?” Moondoggie asks.

“Having tea. He was keeping me company since I’m not allowed in the water without supervision.”

Moondoggie smile and reaches over to ruffle Harry’s hair, looking proud that Harry is adhering to his safety advice. Completely against his will, Harry feels himself close his eyes, bite his lip, and begin to lean towards Moondoggie when he starts scratching Harry’s scalp with his blunt fingernails. Then Niall makes some weird noise, halfway between and yelp and a squeal, which breaks the spell. Harry opens his eyes and steps back, looking at Niall curiously. “You’re like a kitten being pet, I was expecting you to start purring at any moment. ‘S adorable.” Harry flushes at Niall’s words, which just makes the other boy coo at him some more and reach out to be the one petting him this time. Harry ducks away, too self-conscious to let it happen again. 

“Leave it, Stinky.” Moondoggie cuts in, “We’re supposed to be out in the water by now, not embarrassing our Harry. Shark Bait, I mean, not embarrassing Shark Bait.” 

Niall laughs at him and singsongs something about telling Louis that Moondoggie slipped up on the nickname front. Moondoggie responds with some vague threat of retaliation, and Harry can already tell this is going to end up with someone’s (Niall’s, it’ll definitely be Niall’s) face pushed into the sand. He’s just sat down to watch, when a Frisbee smacks into the side of his head. 

“Ow,” He says, even though it was more of a shock than actually painful. 

Moondoggie is immediately in his face, asking if he’s alright, as three girls jog over, apologizing for their stray disc. Then one of the girls has her hand on his shoulder, offering to kiss it better and Harry recoils slightly. “Um, no, that’s okay, I’m fine. Really.” He babbles. She looks disappointed, and then even more so when she sees that Niall is talking to both of her friends. 

Moondoggie helps him up and walks him back over to Kahuna’s place, insisting that Harry should at least put an ice pack on his head for a little bit. “I’m pretty sure he’s still got some of the first aid stuff from when that was a lifeguard station.” When they get there, Kahuna is just leaving, planning on joining some friends further up the beach for a barbecue. Harry contends that he is fine, so Kahuna just tosses Moondoggie his key, telling him to take care of Harry and that supplies are in the cabinet near the toilet. 

“Moondoggie,” Harry protests weakly as he is pushed down to rest on Kahuna’s cot. “You don’t have to go through all this trouble. It was a plastic Frisbee. It barely even hurts anymore.”

Moondoggie just keeps holding the ice pack to the side of Harry’s head. “Let me do this.” He pleads, and gets out his phone. “I’m just gonna google the symptoms of a concussion. I’ll worry otherwise.”

“No, you’re going to read a bunch of stuff and end up thinking I’ve got a brain tumor or something.” 

Moondoggie ignores his statement, alternating reading on his phone and studying Harry intently. His lips move slightly as he reads silently. It is unbearably endearing. Finally he declares that Harry is fine, which is no surprise to Harry. 

They decide being in Kahuna’s place without him there is slightly creepy and make to leave, but then Harry hesitates. He wraps his fingers around Moondoggie’s wrist, stopping him from going. Moondoggie turns to face him with questioning eyebrows. “Thanks. I know I’m fine and I didn’t need you to worry, but thanks for doing it anyway.”

Moondoggie smiles and pulls him into a hug, one hand coming up to cradle the back of Harry’s head. It only lasts a few seconds, but it is more intimate than the earlier, longer one since Niall isn’t on Harry’s other side. “You’re welcome.”

~

The days pass much more quickly now that Harry has so much to occupy his time. Surfing with the crew, partying with Zayn’s friends, karaoke nights (he and Zayn kill it duetting on ‘Torn’, a brilliant choice which Harry takes almost all the credit for), movie nights, and he’s even got into the habit of visiting with Kahuna, they just seem to get each other.

The 4th of July passes with much fanfare, with Louis throwing a barbecue at his parents’ house. He insists that all his British (and Irish) friends act as American as possible, so they all compete, trying to only speak in their best American accents all day. Zayn obviously wins, because he only slips back into his old accent when his guard is down, and also because Louis picks the winner. They join the rest of the crew that night to shoot illegal fireworks on the beach. Lover Boy brings his acoustic guitar and plays familiar songs that have everyone singing along. Sand between his toes, music in the background, and fireworks bursting into bright colors all across the dark night sky. If life was a music video, Harry thinks, it would feel exactly like this.

~

In the weeks following the 4th, Harry starts to notice something off about Zayn. He’s still physically present in Harry’s life, but he seems to take up less space. When Harry stops to think about it, he thinks that Zayn might have been withdrawing for a long while, but with everything else distracting him, Harry just didn’t notice right away.

He tries to start a conversation when he goes over to Zayn’s that night, but Zayn avoids it, suggesting that they go to a party that one of his coworkers is throwing. Harry allows himself to be distracted, figuring that a librarian’s party would be low-key and that he’d be able to talk to Zayn at some point during the night.

He ends up being wrong on both assumptions.

Harry wakes up the next morning in Zayn’s bed with a horrible headache and only hazy memories of last night’s events. He rolls over to check if Zayn is still sleeping and is surprised to see Niall passed out next to him. Harry doesn’t even remember when the other guys showed up. On a hunch, he slowly sits up until he can see the floor. Louis and Moondoggie are there, curled up together on a pile of blankets, with Louis drooling onto Moondoggie’s shoulder. Zayn is not in the room. 

Harry manages to get up and make his way to the toilet, pausing to glance at his reflection in the mirror. He looks wrecked: eyes red, hair even more of a disaster than usual, and there’s a red mark on his neck that he suspects is a hickey. He should be more worried about that, but as he presses his fingertips into the mark he has a vague recollection of Louis biting him. After he showers and borrows some clean clothes from Zayn, he feels marginally better. He can see that Zayn’s car is still in the driveway, so he makes his way downstairs to look for him. He finds Zayn’s mum, who tells him that Zayn went into work early. 

By then the other boys have woken up and insist on taking Harry out for breakfast at some pub that serves full English. Niall assures him it’s the best hangover cure around. Just the thought of it makes Harry feel queasy, but by the time they’re served, he’s eagerly anticipating it. 

Even though he does feel better, he declines the boys’ invitations to keep hanging out and goes home for a nap. This time when he wakes, Zayn is laying next to him, staring up at the ceiling. Harry throws an arm across Zayn’s chest and cuddles in to him, partly for comfort and partly to keep him there until he actually talks to Harry. 

“I feel like you’ve been avoiding me.” Harry says, trying to keep his tone even. 

“I know.”

“You don’t usually work today.” Harry continues, his voice raising at the end to make it sound like a question.

“I switched shifts.” Zayn turns toward Harry, hugging him tightly and speaking into Harry’s hair. “I promise I’m going to talk to you about this, but I can’t do it yet. And I need to ask you a favour. Please.”

“Of course. You know I’ll do anything for you. Short of hiding a body.” Harry tries to joke. 

Zayn indulges him by smiling at the comment, but it looks forced. “It’s nothing that bad, but I do need you to be my alibi.”

Harry’s eyes widen. “Zayn, are you in trouble?” He asks gravely. 

Zayn shakes his head. “No. It’s not like illegal. I just meant with my parents. And yours too, since they talk.” 

“What’s going on?”

“I need my car tomorrow. All day.” Harry nods; he’s noticed that Zayn’s parents seem to have really weird rules about how Zayn uses it. “I told them that I was going to drive you up to visit my school.” 

“And that’s not what we’re doing.”

“No.”

They both stay quiet for a few moments, just laying together and thinking. Harry is one to break the silence. “What do you need me to do? Tell me exactly.”

Zayn looks thoughtful. “Tell your parents you’re with me. And then just make sure to stay out until I let you know I’m back.”

“I can do that.” 

“Really?” Zayn looks at him hopefully.

“Really.” Harry says decisively. “I’m usually out for most of the day anyway. This won’t be any different.” 

“Thank you, Harry.” 

Zayn sounds so sincere that it makes Harry worry just a little bit more. He doesn’t want to push, but he needs to say something else. “Zayn, I wanted--” He pauses, considering his words. “I trust you, you know? So it’s okay if you can’t tell me what’s going on. Let me know if I can do anything else.”

“I will.”

Zayn stays for dinner that night and Harry manages to casually mention that they have plans for the next day. Zayn shows his appreciation by squeezing Harry’s knee under the table, but betrays none of that on his face. 

He would be an ace poker player, Harry thinks to himself, making a mental note to suggest a game of strip poker the next time the boys come over. Sure, Harry would probably be rubbish at it himself, but he isn’t embarrassed being naked, and he’d guess that Moondoggie would be horrible at it too. And then they’d both be sitting around, naked, as the game became a battle between ultra-competitive Louis and Zayn, and maybe they could--Zayn squeezes down on his knee again to drag his attention back into the present where Robin and his mum are looking expectantly at him. 

“Sorry, what?”

The whole table erupts into laughter and Harry figures he was just the punch line to a family story featuring his lack of attention span. He mentally shrugs off the enticing thoughts about strip poker and focuses back on the family conversation. 

Zayn leaves soon after dinner, saying that he’ll come pick Harry up early in the morning for their trip. Harry isn’t sure if he’ll actually see Zayn in the morning or not, but since his mum is nearby, he doesn’t question the statement. He packs up a rucksack with his swimming trunks, sunscreen, a change of clothes, some bottled water, and snacks. He feels like a combination of an international spy, getting ready for a mission, and a cliché kid running away from home, only to be back for dinner. He gets the feeling that the latter is more apt, but wishes to cling to the cool factor of the former.

~

Zayn does pick him up the next morning, arriving a little after 9AM. He’s subdued, and it affects the whole atmosphere of the car, making Harry feel like anything louder than a whisper would be a shout. They do through a McDonald’s drive-through for breakfast, and eat together silently on the beach before Zayn leaves, nodding at Harry instead of verbalizing a ‘goodbye’.

Harry's glad he started storing his surfboard at Kahuna's rather than lugging it back and forth from home since he doesn't always have a ride. Kahuna, Moondoggie, and some of the other guys are already out there, so Harry lets himself into Kahuna's to drop off his bag, and helps himself to some tea before heading out to join them.

The waves are some of the best Harry's seen yet, and he's proud of himself for only wiping out about half the time now. They surf for a few hours before taking a break around lunch time. Harry angles for an invite back to Moondoggie's place, he could use a nap in an air conditioned flat, but Moondoggie's covering a shift at the diner, not heading home. 

(Harry had found out where the other boy worked by accident. He and Gemma had decided to spend some sibling bonding time together, so he brought her to the diner where the crew goes for karaoke. He hadn’t seen Gemma all that much this summer; she was much busier than Harry since she had decided to enroll in a local college to get a couple gen ed classes out of the way. 

So he wasn’t expecting to see Moondoggie there, working as a waiter. Harry had barely gotten a chance to ogle Moondoggie's arms in his uniform shirt before Gemma had gotten a glint in her eye, recognizing her little brother’s crush. She practically made Moondoggie sit at the table with them while she told embarrassing childhood stories that mostly centered on young Harry refusing to wear clothes. It was not an experience he was looking to repeat anytime soon.)

So he makes sad eyes at Kahuna until he invites him back to his place. “Not like you don’t make yourself at home here anyway.” He says, indicating Harry’s dirtied teacup. Harry just shrugs and grins at him cheekily before cleaning the cup out in the sink. When he returns, Kahuna is stretched out on his cot, so Harry takes the hammock chair. Although Harry can and does tan, he’s found with the California sun that he still really needs to use sunscreen and spend a couple hours indoors during the hottest part of the day. It’s a practice that the palest of the crew, mostly Niall, Lover Boy, and Kahuna have taught Harry, and they follow it religiously.

“Did you know,” Kahuna starts before apparently reading Harry’s mind, “That I used to burn horribly whenever I went on holiday? Somehow I was always convinced that I would tan, like I was part Latino and would take to the sun very well. I’d get home to London and be bright red every time I spend a weekend in Ibiza.” 

Harry chuckles, but he has the weirdest sense of deja vu, like he’s heard Kahuna tell this story before. He’s had this feeling once before, when they were talking about their favourite musicians. “Hey.” He says abruptly, leaning forward. “Did you used to be on the radio?” 

“Yeah...you listened to Radio 1?” 

Harry nods, “Mostly I had it on when I was going to bed, but sometimes in the car too.” Harry looks at Kahuna’s face and wracks his brain, there was a bloke he used to listen to, at night, he was Northern. What was his name? “Nick Grimshaw!” Harry exclaims.

Kahuna (Nick, Harry thinks, he’s totally right about this) groans and covers his face with his hands. “You got me.” 

Harry takes in Nick’s posture, and realises that maybe he shouldn’t sound so gleeful. “Um, sorry that I know who you are.”

“It’s okay.” Nick says through his fingers.

“I just really liked your show, with that 1000 albums thing.”

“Feature.” Nick corrects, removing his hands from his face. “I was really proud of that one.”

“I remember being really upset when Huw Stephens took over.” And Harry knows he shouldn’t ask, but he can’t help it. “Did you get sacked?”

“Nope, I just up and left one day. Did you know all DJs eventually go batshit?” Harry shakes his head. “It’s a whole thing. I could probably prove it scientifically if I cared to.” Nick rolls over onto his back and faces the ceiling. “I was sort of friends with this popstar, we hung out but weren’t too close, she was kind of a big deal. And then she died, last summer, and she was so young. I dunno, everyone was sad and so was I, but I thought I was fine. But it stuck with me. Then it was fall and gray and dreary and I just wanted to leave and go someplace warm. So I did. I almost walked out mid-broadcast, but my producer convinced me to finish and then put in for a leave of absence instead of outright quitting.”

Harry is shocked. He cannot imagine having a job, a career, like that and just leaving. “Do you ever miss it?”

Nick looks contemplative. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. The people mostly, but also everything else. It wasn’t really a bad job to have...” He trails off, and Harry’s not sure if he should say anything else. They end up sitting in silence together for a long time, but it’s a comfortable one, to Harry at least. Eventually, Harry drifts off, getting his mid-afternoon nap, but he’s not sure if Nick ever does.

~

The sun has gone down, and Harry has still yet to hear from Zayn. He decides to leave the beach and head for the diner, planning to bug Moondoggie for the rest of his shift. Niall is sitting at the counter when he gets there, apparently having had the same idea. He’s glad to have someone to eat dinner with. It’s strange, earlier this summer he went four whole days without even stopping at home for a change of clothes, but now that he knows he can’t go there all he wants to do is sit and watch a movie with his sister and his mum. Pathetic.

He watches Moondoggie work, and lets Niall distract him with stories of wild pranks he and his friends played in the dorms last year. Harry even writes one down as a note in his phone, because it’s too good not to try on someone one day. After a couple hours, Moondoggie is done working and exhausted. He shoots down Niall’s suggestions going out to find a bar that’ll serve them, much to Harry’s relief. He still hasn’t quite recovered from the party the other day. Instead, the three of them head back to the boys’ flat. 

Louis's there, watching some sort of mindless reality TV show. Harry joins him while Niall disappears into the kitchen to make a snack and Moondoggie goes to take a shower. "Had a good day?" Harry asks.

"It was a day." Louis rests his head onto Harry's shoulder. "Had seventeen kids in my swimming class. Nobody drowned, so..." He shrugs and Harry reaches over to pet his hair. 

"I'd call it a win." Harry advises. Moondoggie emerges from down the hallway, freshly showered and wearing flannel pajamas and a thin white t-shirt. He settles down onto the couch on Harry's other side and puts his feet up on the coffee table.

"Okay." Louis says. Harry fiddles with his phone, checking for new messages while Louis screen watches. "Something's up with Beautiful today, right? He hasn't answered any of my texts all day." Harry nods his head and then shrugs. "Yes something is up, but you don't know what?" Louis interprets. 

"Yep." Louis seems satisfied enough to leave it for now and turns his attention back to the show where some housewives of somewhere are doing a thing. Harry is having trouble focusing; Moondoggie smells really good. 

Finally, Zayn texts him the all clear, and asks if he can bring Harry home and stay at his tonight. Harry sends him an affirmative response and begins to say his goodnights to the boys. Niall clings to him while Louis tries to get him to convince Zayn to come inside to hang out, but Harry manages to extract himself just as Zayn pulls up outside. He smacks a goodbye kiss onto Moondoggie’s cheek without really thinking about it and then quickly gives one to Louis and Niall to save face. 

He can feel that his face is flushed as he waves one last time and hopes that it is too dark in the doorway for any of the boys to tell. He throws himself into the passenger seat of the car, feeling like Zayn is his getaway driver. He resists the urge to explain any of his current train of thought to Zayn, even though the other boy doesn’t look anywhere near as somber as he had recently. 

The quick car ride is comfortable and not spent in silence, like Harry expected it might be. They avoid Zayn topics, and instead Harry gets to finally share his news about Kahuna’s alter ego. 

“No way!” Zayn is incredulous. “Is he like, proper famous?” 

“Yes! I googled him and found actual paparazzi photos and everything.” 

“Weird.”

They make a stop for some late-night tacos before arriving back at Harry’s. They eat and look up youtube videos of Nick on ‘Never Mind the Buzzcocks’ and debate over whether to send the links to Louis. “You don’t have to put up with them together,” Harry argues against. “I do not want to hand Louis this much ammunition.” 

Zayn pouts. “Spoilsport.”

It isn’t until later, when they’re both laying in Harry’s bed with the lights off that Harry finally broaches the subject they’d been avoiding. He simply says, “Zayn?” in a questioning tone and Zayn sighs and rolls over to face him.

“This isn’t really my story, you know?” Zayn starts. “That’s why I never said anything to you. I wasn’t sure if I should.”

“Whose story is it?” Harry asks.

“Perrie’s. I guess it’s mine too, at least a little. We went to the same high school, did you know that?” Harry shakes his head, he’s surfed with Perrie all summer, but she’s still pretty much a mystery to him. “The two of us and Louis too. She was the first friend I made when I moved here. We decided to go to university together. We drifted apart a bit at the beginning of the year, surrounded by new people and in different classes. She started dating this guy, upperclassman, not a big fan of mine.” A dark look passes over his face. Harry assumes the bloke was an arsehole. “But I guess she really liked him...” He trails off, and Harry waits. “Look, this is really long and complicated, can I give you the ‘long-story-short’ version?”

Harry’s response is immediate. “Yeah, whatever you want.” 

“Perrie got pregnant, the guy pulled a douchebag move and left her. She wanted to be able to tell her parents, she needed them, but didn’t want to admit to having such utter shit taste in guys, so.” Zayn closes his eyes. “So we told them it was mine.”

“Shit.” Harry breathes out.

Zayn snorts. “I know, I know. My parents were pissed. But. I would do anything for that girl. Including raise a kid with her. It was actually kind of exciting. Like, the scariest and hardest thing we would ever do, but also amazing, you know?” 

Harry doesn’t know. He can’t really fathom making that sort of decision at their age. So he just nods and hopes he looks understanding while his mind races. Shit. “What happened, Zayn?” He asks, gently.

“Complications. She didn’t make it very far into the second trimester. We had just started the spring semester.”

Harry can’t help but tear up when he hears the little stutter in Zayn’s voice. “I’m sorry.” He says, not knowing what else to say. 

Zayn squeezes his hand; Harry doesn’t even know when he started holding it. “Today was her due date. Her therapist told her she should do something, to give her closure or something.” 

“And that’s what you were doing today.”

“Yeah. We went to her church and then up to school. We got a little memorial put in the park up there. And then we went and keyed that bastard’s car.”

Harry can’t help but laugh. “Seriously?” He asks, trying to contain himself. 

Zayn smiles and nods. “Yes.” Then he laughs too. “Oh my god.” They are both giggling now, uncontrollably. “We actually did.” 

“Hey,” Harry says, once he can breathe again. “If your parents know, why was I your alibi?”

“Oh. I’m officially still grounded, I guess? I wasn’t really allowed out of the house much over winter break. This summer was supposed to be the same, but like...” He stops and looks at Harry guiltily. 

“Oh my god,” Harry says. “Hanging out with me is your punishment!” 

“Yeah? I mean, at least at first it was supposed to be.” Harry flings his arms over his face dramatically, making Zayn laugh again. “But Harry, you’ve got to know by now that you’re my best friend.”

Harry peeks out from under his arm. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. You’re mine too.”

“I know.”

~

The next time Harry surfs with Perrie, he feels incredibly awkward. He isn’t sure how he’s supposed to act, what he could even possibly say. He starts to mention Zayn, to somehow bring up the subject, but keeps fumbling his words.

“Stop.” Thankfully, she puts him out of his misery. “I told Zayn it was okay to tell you. It’s not some giant secret and I’m not ashamed of anything.” She reaches up to grasp his shoulder. “I’m not okay, but I think I will be one day. Just give me and hug and come surf with me.” Harry complies. 

Later, he finds himself watching Perrie as she laughs at one of Louis’s stupid jokes, bright and beautiful against the setting sun. “I could easily see myself falling in love with you.” He tells her.

She laughs again and punches him in the arm. “Good to know. But try not to, you couldn’t handle me.” 

Harry thinks for a moment before agreeing. “Probably not.”

~

Time seems to speed up as they get closer to the end of the summer. Zayn becomes somewhat over-invested in Harry’s love life, trying to teach him how to use and recognise various flirting techniques so he’s not totally lost at uni. He tries out a few on Lover Boy during a random conversation and the bloke nearly starts panting and drooling on him. Confidently, he tries with Moondoggie and ends up getting a friendly pat on the back.

He’s so preoccupied that he almost forgets about the most important day of his year. A-Level results day. His mum didn’t trust the college to post the results to the house in California, so she arranged for her sister to go pick them up in person. His aunt phones and wakes him up a little after 6AM. 

Harry’s mum rushes in moments later, she must have heard the phone ring. “Was that her? How did you do?”

“AAA. I’m in.” 

Anne practically tackles him in a hug. “I knew you would! I’m so proud of you, my baby.” 

Harry manages a smile. He’s still in shock. University of Manchester. It’s real now. 

He goes out for a celebratory breakfast with his family and he convinces them to drop him off at the beach afterward. He still hasn’t gotten a response from his text to Zayn, but he thinks he can share his news with the rest of his friends since he did technically inform Zayn first.

Luckily, almost the whole crew is gathered by the lifeguard station instead of spread out across the waves. 

“Hey Shark Bait!” Nick calls, “We were just discussing the big end-of-the-season bonfire we’re having.”

“That sounds like fun.” Harry wanted to make a big announcement, but he thinks it might be rude to so abruptly change the subject. He tries to sit and listen, but after about a minute of hearing about the process of getting a permit from the city, he leans over to whisper in Niall’s ear. “I passed my A-Levels, I’m starting at the University of Manchester next month. Pass it on.” 

Niall gives him a big grin and a thumbs up before leaning over to the next person to whisper the message to him. Harry sits and watches as his news spreads around the circle, everyone looking happy for him. He wonders if it’s been corrupted yet, watching as Perrie tells Moondoggie. Moondoggie gets a weird look on his face, glances at Harry and looks down. Then he gets up and strides away, heading toward the street. 

It’s disruptive enough that Nick stops talking, “What’s up with him?”

“Per, what did you tell him?” Niall asks.

“Just what I heard, Harry got into his school in Manchester.” 

“Shit.” Louis says. He had been sitting next to Moondoggie, and had not heard yet. “I mean, good for you, congrats, I just need to go after him.” 

Harry looks on, worried, as Louis jogs up the beach in the direction Moondoggie had left. 

“Is it already A-Levels results day?” Asks Nick. “I think my niece might have taken hers this year, I should check.” 

Louis returns as some of the other people are congratulating and getting more details from Harry. “He’s just remembered that he left something at home, he’s fine. Continue on.” Louis says. It’s obviously a lie, but Nick seems to take it at face value and starts talking about party food. By the end of the discussion, Harry thinks he’s been volunteered to provide steaks, but can’t be entirely sure. 

While everyone else head back to the water, Harry stops Louis. “What’s going on, really? Is Moondoggie mad at me?”

“No! No, definitely not. He’s probably sitting at home, feeling bad that he couldn’t just be happy for you.” Louis says.

“But I don’t want him to feel bad. Should I call him?” Harry feels awful. 

“No, let him just cool down. He’ll probably end up apologizing to you.” Louis looks around sees Niall making a phone call nearby. He tugs Harry away from Niall, back over to the shade and pulls him to sit down. “This is in no way your fault. Moondoggie’s just really hard on himself. He’s got this whole thing about how he’s not good enough, which is bullshit, and this just reminded him.” 

None of this is helping, Harry just feels more confused. “But Moondoggie is good at everything.”

“I know!” Louis is practically shouting. “I tell him that all the time. But when he was a kid, he almost qualified for the Olympics for running. He was like third fastest in all of England.”

“Wow.” Harry says, eyes wide.

“That’s what I said. I said, ‘wow that’s amazing’, but third fastest wasn’t fast enough because he didn’t qualify to train with the team. And then singing was his thing, and you’ve heard the boy sing, he is great.”

“Yeah!” Harry agrees wholeheartedly. 

“So he went on one of those reality singing competition shows.--”

“Which one?” Harry interrupts. This is more information about Moondoggie than he’s ever gotten in one sitting. 

Louis looks caught out. “Um...I don’t know. It had Simon Cowell? Because he made it far enough that he went to Simon’s house and then was sent home?” 

“X-Factor?” Harry suggests.

Louis taps his nose with his index finger. “Yes, that was it.” 

Harry is in awe. “He made it to Judges’ Houses on X-Factor?” 

Louis nods, “When he was 14. Is that a big deal? He said it wasn’t that big.”

“It’s huge. I probably watched him on the telly. Do you know what year it was?” 

Louis huffs. “I didn’t even remember the show’s name until you said it. But probably four or five years ago?” 

“Huh. I definitely watched him then.” Harry tries to think back, but once the show has finished airing, it’s like all the contestants and special moments get jumbled together with ones from all the other seasons in his brain. 

“Yeah.” Louis says, “But it just reinforced that whole stupid idea he has, that he’s good but never good enough. Then he was accepted to your school, in Manchester, but then he found out he messed up that test, the one you just passed.”

“Oh. Damn. That was pretty much my worst nightmare.” Harry confesses, and he just threw it all back into Moondoggie’s face. “I don’t know what I would have done in his place. It’s so scary.”

“I don’t understand how your school system works. At least when I bombed my SATs, I found out a year before I was supposed to apply to schools.” 

Harry shrugs, “That would probably be less stressful.”

“Well, this sucks.” Niall says, having finished his call and joined Louis and Harry.

Louis looks wary, Harry guesses that he didn’t want Niall to overhear their conversation about Moondoggie’s insecurities. “What does?” Louis asks.

“I’m going to miss the bonfire.” This is the first time Harry has ever seen Niall look genuinely distressed. 

“No!” Louis cries, “It’s our biggest party of the year, how we say goodbye for the summer!”

“Why?” Harry asks, much more sensibly. 

Niall flops down into the sand, next to Harry. "I'm flying back to Boston next Wednesday."

“Boston?” Harry had just assumed Niall would be going back to Ireland.

“Our Stinky here is wicked smart.” Louis says, in a strange voice that Harry thinks is supposed to be a Boston accent. “Goes to MIT.”

Niall shrugs. “They offered me the best deal. Thinking about Caltech for grad school, though. I like it here.”

“Me too. I mean, not about Caltech. I like it here too.” Harry says, feeling somber. “I’m going to miss you all.” 

Louis tackle-hugs Harry into Niall. “Aww! I love you too!” He squeezes them tightly, and then jumps up. “Kay, enough of that sappy crap. We have a lot of surfing to do before Wednesday.” 

Moondoggie turns up about an hour later. He very sincerely congratulates Harry on his academic achievement and Harry is compelled to give him a big hug. “Thank you.” He says into Moondoggie’s ear, wishing he could say more.

~

The day Niall leaves is a tough one for Harry. Their little group is getting split up and it makes Harry realise that he’ll be the next to go. He’s not ashamed to admit that he cried, but he is slightly ashamed of the fact that Zayn had to physically pull him away from Niall in the airport car park.

 _It’s all almost over_ , Harry thinks.

Harry’s been pining over Moondoggie for months now, and while the thrill of having a crush is enjoyable on its own merits, he hopes he can get a snog before summer ends. The bonfire is his last chance. They’ll be on the beach, their beach, at night, and firelight has to be at least as romantic as candlelight. 

The problem is that Harry knows that Moondoggie hasn’t ever considered him that way. He’s been slotted into the Little Brother Zone since the moment they met. 

He’s in the midst of complaining about it to Zayn, again, when Zayn makes a comment that floors him. “So what are you going to do, bring a fake date to try and make him jealous?” 

Harry sits up from where he was slouched and slaps at Zayn’s chest. “That’s brilliant, Zayn.”

“No, it isn’t. I was kidding. Please don’t do that.” Zayn tries to articulate some arguments against Harry’s new plan, citing various romantic comedies that he would normally never admit to having seen, but Harry doesn’t listen. He’s too busy trying to figure out who he could trust to help him out. Zayn’s obviously out. Niall’s gone. That only leaves Louis. _Alright_ , Harry concedes in his head, _this probably won’t work_. But he still arranges to meet Louis alone to at least ask him.

~

“Okay, I’ll admit you’ve got me intrigued.” Louis says when they get together at the Starbucks with notoriously bad service. “This has ‘clandestine’ written all over it.”

Harry’s already regretting this, but soldiers on. “Yeah, I have a favour to ask you. But you have to keep it a secret, okay?” 

Louis holds up his hand. “Scout’s honor.”

“Would you be my date for the bonfire?” He asks quickly. 

“Shark Bait! Do you have a secret crush on me?” Louis sounds amused.

“No!” Harry barks out before lowering his voice, “But I do have a crush on someone else. I want to see if I can make him jealous.” 

Louis nods, “And obviously you thought of me, with good looks and acting skills to match.”

“Of course.” Harry agrees. 

Louis pretends to consider the idea. “No.” Louis shakes his head firmly to further emphasize the absolute shutdown of Harry’s suggestion. 

“Why not? I could pay you.” 

“Even more no, what do I look like, an escort service?” Harry chooses not to answer that one, but can’t help smiling a bit and making Louis look down at his tight fitting clothes. “Hey! I don’t look like an escort, shut up.” He continues, “It would never work. No one who knows me would believe it. They all know I’ve been stupid over Zayn for years.”

Oh. He knows they’ve hooked up and they flirt every time they’re around each other, but for some reason he never thought Louis was being serious. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call him Zayn before. I kind of thought you didn’t know what his real name was.”

Louis reaches over and flicks Harry in the middle of his forehead. “Of course I know his name. ‘Zayn’ means ‘beautiful’ in Arabic, you dolt. I looked it up.” 

“Oh...” Harry is a little dumbstruck. “That’s actually kind of sweet.” 

“It’s a lot sweet; I am the most romantic person I know.” Louis boasts. 

Harry smiles at Louis fondly, shaking his head. “That’s really great for you, but I’m back at square one with no plan.”

“Who is it you want?”

Harry was expecting this question a lot earlier in the conversation, but Louis is nothing if not unpredictable. “I’d rather not say. He’s definitely going to the bonfire though.”

Louis looks at him consideringly. “I don’t see why you can’t just go up to this boy and kiss him. You’re pretty hot, Shark Bait, it would work on most of our friends.” 

He starts to feel his cheeks heat up. More than anything he wishes he had the power to stop himself from blushing in these situations. And of course Louis doesn’t ignore it, he just starts poking at Harry’s dimples and pinching his cheeks while still expecting Harry to answer. “I can’t, I can’t just do that...I’ve never, not really, and I’d want it to be more special than that.” 

Louis looks delighted at his confession. “You are too precious for words.” He pulls him close and wraps his arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll get you a date and let him know what’s going on. And it’ll be a believable one too.”

“Thank you.” Harry says, genuinely relieved. 

“If you really want to thank me, help me get Beautiful to agree to be my date at this shindig. He hasn’t answered yet.” 

“I’ll try.”

~

It takes one conversation for Harry to convince Zayn to go out with Louis and give him an actual chance. Harry feels bad that he didn’t know to say anything months ago. In return, Louis instructs Harry to meet his mystery date at the diner so they can arrive at the bonfire together.

Having a quick fight with Gemma over borrowing the car distracts Harry from being too nervous. At the very least, he’s confident that he looks his best. Zayn had picked out his outfit- his tightest black skinny jeans, a fitted undershirt, and an open white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He left his hair to do its own thing, gave up messing with it years ago, but it thankfully decided to look nice tonight. 

He looks around for a familiar face when he steps into the diner, but since he’s been such a regular there, he sees several. A voice from behind him calls out his name and when he turns, he feels like his stomach has dropped down through the floor. Moondoggie. Is waving him over enthusiastically. He was such an idiot for asking Louis for help, of course this would happen. 

Still, he tries to keep hope alive as he scoots into the booth across from Moondoggie. “Hi,” Harry says, “I was supposed to meet my date here...” He trails off, inwardly wincing at Moondoggie nodding.

“You have.” He says, smiling at Harry. “Waikiki explained the whole thing to me.”

“He did, huh?”

“Yeah, he was actually going to ask Lover Boy to do it, can you believe?” 

Harry shrugs. “Don’t know what’d be wrong with that. He’s a good guy.”

Moondoggie frowns, a little line appearing between his eyebrows. “Yeah, he’s a mate and all, but like, he’d probably take advantage of the situation, try to grope you or something.”

“Yeah,” Harry says weakly. “Wouldn’t want that to happen.”

“So do you want to eat first, or just head straight to the party? I bet Kahuna’s got the fire going by now.” 

Harry wants to say neither, that he’s just going to go home to bed instead. But. But this is still salvageable. Moondoggie’s going to be with him all night, at the very least pretending to be into him. He can work with that. “Let’s go to the party.”

~

They have to park a little further down the beach than they normally would, since there are so many more people there. On the walk over, Moondoggie tries to figure out who Harry’s crush is.

“If I guess correctly, will you tell me?” Moondoggie asks.

“Sure.” 

“Alright, it can’t be Waikiki or Zayn.”

Harry sighs, “Nope.” 

Moondoggie makes an exaggerated thinking face. “Hmmm...What about Byron?”

Harry scoffs, “Please, he looks like he could be my little sister.”

Moondoggie laughs. “That kind of thing might appeal to someone.” Harry elbows him in the side. 

By then they’d arrived at the party. Harry looks around, taking it all in. There’s a band set up by the lifeguard station, drinks and food across from them, and a large bonfire right in the middle of all the action. As much as Harry loves his friends, it seems like a disaster waiting to happen. Nick waves at them from his place over by the band and Harry smiles, wondering if Nick has missed hanging out with musicians. 

“It’s not-” Moondoggie cuts himself off.

Harry looks at him, confused. “What?”

“It’s not Kahuna, right? Your crush?” The tone of his voice is weird, like the very idea is putting him off. 

Harry jumps on the easy out. “Yes! You got me. I’m in love with Kahuna.”

“But he’s so old!”

“Some people prefer experienced partners.” Harry can’t believe how he sounds, but the way Moondoggie is reacting is giving him a glimmer of hope. “C’mon, lets go sit over by the band.”

“Over by Kahuna.” He hears Moondoggie mutter.

Harry grabs Moondoggie’s hand as they walk around the fire, interlocking their fingers. “Isn’t that the whole point? I thought you were going to help me?” 

Moondoggie gets a determined look in his eyes. “I am.” He says. “Dance with me? It’ll make us look more realistic.”

“Good idea.” 

Harry’s not exactly sure what he’s doing, so he just tries his best to follow Moondoggie’s lead. After a few songs, the beat of the music slows down, the band playing a ballad, and Moondoggie pulls him in close. Their whole bodies are pressed together as Moondoggie sways them back and forth. Harry lets his eyes close as Moondoggie whispers into his ear, “Is Kahuna looking?”

“Yes.” Harry answers without bothering to look.

Moondoggie pulls back slightly. Harry starts to protest, but before he can say anything Moondoggie leans back in and presses their lips together. Harry instinctually tilts his head, trying to get closer. He parts his lips and feels just a hint of Moondoggie’s tongue there, waiting for entry. The kiss seems to last forever and at the same time is over much too soon. They both pull back and Harry blinks his eyes back open. This is possibly the most perfect moment he has ever experienced. 

So, of course, the moment is completely ruined when Harry sees the shocked expression on Moondoggie’s face. “I’m sorry,” Moondoggie says, “I gotta-” He turns and walks away, pushing through the party and disappearing into the darkness beyond. And Harry just stands there, dumbstruck, watching him go.

_What the hell just happened?_

The party continues going on around him. No one even noticed. He needs to get out of here; he can feel the tears building in his eyes. He spots Zayn over by the drinks with Louis, actually giggling. His night may be ruined, but he can make sure to walk around the long way to avoid Zayn and ruin their night too. 

Just as he reaches the outskirts of the party, he hears Nick calling out his name. “Harry, wait up!” 

“Hey Kahuna,” he says, voice shaking. 

“What’s going on?” He asks, concern palpable.

Harry tries to wave him off. “Nothing, I just need to get out of here.”

Nick looks at him for a long moment before speaking. “Well, I happen to be crashing at a pal’s place tonight, it’s just up the beach from here. Want to walk with me?”

“You aren’t staying at the party?” Harry asks, trying to surreptitiously wipe his eyes. 

Nick throws an arm over Harry’s shoulders. “Nah, I’d much rather be taking a moonlight stroll with a fit lad such as yourself.” 

“Thanks, Nick.”

Nick asks if he wants to talk about it. Harry starts to say no, sure he’s just asking to be polite, but when he opens his mouth, it all comes pouring out anyway. He ends up telling Nick all about Moondoggie, his feelings about leaving soon, how scared he is to start University. Nick doesn’t say much, but Harry feels so much better just for getting it all out there. 

When they reach Nick’s mate’s place, Nick lingers before going through the front door. “Do you want to come in?” He asks Harry, and Harry can hear the weight in the question. He’s not entirely sure what the offer would entail, but he knows if he takes it he wouldn’t be thinking about Moondoggie or any of his other worries for a while.  
“Nah.” Harry says, messing with his fringe. “I think I’ll just head home.”

“Alright,” Nick says easily. “Take care of yourself, Shark Bait. Nothing’s ever as dire as it seems in the middle of the night.”

~

Harry has strange dreams that night. All sex and violence and Zayn sleeping next to him through it all. When he opens his eyes the next morning, he sees at least one of those things was prophetic. Zayn is laying in bed with him, but surprisingly, he isn’t asleep.

“Hey. G’morning.” Harry says.

“Hey.” 

Harry tries to joke. “Date must not have gone that well, if you ended up in bed with me.”

“Yeah,” He can see Zayn hesitate. “Louis had to go pick Moondoggie up from the police station around two in the morning.”

“What?” That was literally the last thing Harry had expected to hear.

Zayn nods, “Crazy, right? He and Grimshaw got into a fight. I have no idea why. Cops were called, Nick had the beginning of a black-eye, so they took Moondoggie in.”

“Fuck.”

“Nick refused to press charges, so they had to let Moondoggie go. So that’s how my night went.” Zayn says.

“Zayn, I’m so sorry.” Oh god. This was all his fault. 

As usual, Zayn reads his mind. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“No, I really think it might have been. Hand me my phone.” He sends Moondoggie a text, _Meet me @ Kahuna’s in an hour. I think we should talk._

“Do you want me there too?” Zayn asks.

Harry pauses, considering. He really wants Zayn with him, but...“No. I need to do this on my own.” 

The hour goes by quickly as Harry forces himself to eat something and shower while Zayn falls back asleep. He jogs out to the beach, arriving right as Moondoggie gets there. “Hey.” Harry says, looking him over for obvious bruises and wounds. He doesn’t see any.

“Hey.” Moondoggie says, shifting his weight awkwardly.

Harry just cannot look at him any longer. He turns away and starts striding towards Nick’s, trusting Moondoggie to follow. When they arrive, Nick is outside, shoving clothes and knick-knacks into an oversized duffle bag, the skin around his eye is a dark shade of purple. 

“Oh, your eye.” Harry shoots Moondoggie a look, trying to convey his disappointment. Then he takes in the whole scene again. “Nick, what are you doing?”

“Packing.” Nick says, unnecessarily sarcastically. 

Moondoggie snorts. “We can see that.” 

Harry pokes him in the side. “You, be quiet. You,” he points to Nick. “You’re leaving? Now?”

“It’s time to move on. Summer’s ending.” Nick goes back inside the station and comes back with another bag. When he crouches down to pack that bag, Harry spies a piece of paper about to fall out of Nick’s jacket. Harry reaches over and grabs it without thinking. It’s a boarding pass. Nick snatches it back, but not before Harry had a chance to read it.

“London?” 

“Yes.” Nick says.

“But what about heading south? Your endless summer?” Harry asks.

Nick shrugs. “I miss it. I miss my family, my friends, my job; I even miss the goddamn rain. It’s well past time for me to go home.”

Harry gives him a hug. “Let me know when you’re back on the radio, I’ll tune in every night.” 

“I will. Moondoggie-” Nick calls him over. Moondoggie’s been standing a few feet away, staring at the ground while Nick and Harry talked. “Mate, I’m sorry I wound you up last night. Every single thing I said was a lie.”

“Everything?” Moondoggie asks.

“Everything.” 

Moondoggie rubs his thumb over the knuckles of his right hand. “Then, I’m sorry I hit you. And even if it was all true, I’d still be sorry I hit you. We alright?”

“Yeah.”

Harry is still really confused. “But what happened with you two?”

“Nothing.” Nick says.

“A big misunderstanding.” Is Moondoggie’s reply. 

“You know what? You are both really frustrating.” Harry throws his hands up in defeat. 

Nick laughs. “Yeah, I know. Get out of here you two, I’ve got a lot of stuff to pack.” He shoos them away, before adding, “Harry- my parents live in Manchester. I’ll give you a call when I go up to visit, alright?”

Harry beams at him. “Yeah, that’d be alright.”

Harry walks away from the beach feeling a million times better. Then Moondoggie starts saying, “Look, Harry, I-”

Harry doesn’t want to have this conversation, the one where they talk about Harry’s feelings. “Stop. Can we just pretend like we talked about it? I’m leaving in a few days. All I want to do right now is to wake up Zayn and Louis and make them come get breakfast with us.”

Moondoggie bites his lower lip, thinking for a moment. “Alright, we can do that.”

“Brilliant.”

Harry spends the next three days much like his first few in California. He gets another tattoo, _won’t stop ‘til we surrender_ , placed under the star. He marathons TV shows again with Zayn, only now Louis and Moondoggie are there too, with Niall watching over Skype. They go out for karaoke one last time, and he sings a duet with Moondoggie. Their voices sound really nice together, but Harry tries not to dwell on it. Then it’s his turn to go to the airport, his family waiting for him on the other side of security, but he can’t bring himself to leave yet. He’s surrounded in one last group hug and everyone is crying, even Louis. “I love you.” He says, meaning Moondoggie, meaning Zayn, meaning Louis, and even meaning Niall, who called him earlier. They all say they love him back, and he pulls away. If he doesn’t leave right then, he never will. He waves one last time once he’s through the security line, and watches as they all walk away.

~

**Three months later...**

“Hey, mum! I’m home.” Harry calls out, struggling to drag his massive laundry bag through the front door. 

“Oh, thank god, I completely forgot to check with you about your plans for tonight.” 

Harry sighs; his mum is worried he’s not socializing enough at Uni, so she keeps setting him up on friend dates. “I’ve got a Skype date with Zayn.” 

“Oh, well, I was talking to my old friend, do you remember Ms. Karen?” She asks. Harry shakes his head. “Well, anyway, her son Liam just moved to town. He doesn’t know anyone here yet.” 

“Why did he move here then?” Harry is curious, despite himself. He had really wanted to talk to Zayn, too.

“He took some time off after college, but he’s starting at your Uni next semester.”

“Okay. I guess I could show him around campus?” Harry says, getting out his phone to text Zayn to let him know. “But I was going to start my washing tonight...” Harry kicks at the giant bag and grins cheekily. 

His mum rolls her eyes. “Alright, I’ll start it. You go change. Liam will be here soon.”

“Alright.” 

He freshens up quickly, debating over his t-shirt choices before choosing the latest band shirt Nick sent. 

He hears the doorbell and makes his way downstairs, but when his mum pulls open the front door, Harry stops in his tracks. It’s Moondoggie. Standing in his doorway. The embodiment of his summer. In a really nice coat. 

“Oh, there you are, Harry. I’d like you to meet Liam.” He spares his mum a glance. She’s smirking. There’s no way she doesn’t know who this is. He looks again and yes; she’s got out her phone, recording his reaction. He wants to be mad at her, but he doesn’t even care. Moondoggie is right there.

“Liam?” 

“Hiya, Harry.” His arms are suddenly full of Moondoggie. Liam. Harry doesn’t even know which one of them moved first, but he clings tightly, breathing in. He still smells the same, saltwater and sunshine. Harry doesn’t want to move again ever. But then Liam is grabbing Harry’s jacket and saying something to his mum and they’re outside in Liam’s car.

“Where are we going?” Harry feels overwhelmed.

“Dunno, just needed to get away from your mum.”

“Why?”

“So I could do this-” 

Liam telegraphs the move, leaning in deliberately, slowly, giving Harry time to back away. Instead, Harry rushes in to meet him, noses bumping slightly as they kiss for the second time. They adjust and lean back in, kissing again and again. When Harry finally pulls back, he keeps his hand grasped tightly in Liam’s shirt. “No running off this time.” Harry warns.

“Don’t want to run anywhere without you.”

Later, they’ll talk about feelings, and how Liam had gotten himself into school. Later, Harry will bring Liam to all his favourite places on campus, and they’ll talk about serious things like how they want to spend the rest of their lives. But for now, all Harry wants is to kiss Liam again. So he does.


End file.
